


Inflorescence

by LightGreySea



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: M/M, do not copy to another site
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-15
Updated: 2019-08-15
Packaged: 2020-09-01 10:20:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20256523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LightGreySea/pseuds/LightGreySea
Summary: Inflorescence: the budding and unfolding of blossoms.The road from the Shire to Erebor is scattered with wildberries. Which, for a hobbit who is trying to worm his way into dwarven hearts, is very convenient. And if he has set his eyes on a heart in particular, who could blame him?





	Inflorescence

**Author's Note:**

> My entry for Bagginshield Summer Adventure 2019, the prompt was "berry picking".  
An huge thank you to: 1. the organisers, this was such a lovely event! 2. all the partecipants, whose works I recommend 3. the Readers
> 
> Italic for thoughts and such, guillemets for dialogues.
> 
> Enjoy!

* * *

As much as Thorin’s first opinion of the halfling has been dismissive, he must admit that fresh berries are a very welcome variation to Bombur’s stew and dry meat. In fact, the dwarf has come to expect with ill-concealed trepidation the moment when Bilbo Baggins would emerge from the woods, carring wildberries in his folded jacket.

«They taste better with whipped cream,» he has said the first time, almost unsure «but it is better that nothing, eh?»

The hobbit discovered that food was indeed a good method to worm his way into the dwarves hearts; he knew the woods surrounding Bree well enough to remember the best spots and provide fresh berries for their meals.

Soon enough Bilbo learnt their tastes too; Dwalin and Balin had a soft spot for wild strawberries, and the Ri brothers scarfed down notable quantites of currants and raspberries. Thorin always discretely picked blueberries for himself, althought the hobbit probably noticed his preference too, since he was always very generous with his portions.

Thorin was secretly pleased of this subtle attentiveness, and also appreciated how Bilbo tried to fit within their group despite his obvious unpreparedness.

_Why does he care so much?_ He thought, but this is just a fragment of what he wanted to ask the hobbit: w_hy do you left your home? It was warm and safe and your__s__, why abandon it for a mad quest that means nothing to you? Why do you trust us? why do you trust __**me**__?_

The answer came later, after Bilbo Baggins left Rivendell, beautiful and safe, to follow him through storms and goblin tunnels.

«That’s home. And that’s why I came back. Because you don’t have one. A home. It was taken from you. But I will help you take it back if I can.» Bilbo said, bathed in the golden light of the sunset, as if it were the simplest thing.

_My own kin deserted me_, Thorin wished to scream. _Not even the promises of gold and riches could coax them out of their mountains. But here you are. __C__an’t you see how extraordinary is this?_

He simply lowered his eyes, realizing he does not want to scream at all. Instead, Thorin wishes he could whisper it into Bilbo’s ear, low and close.

Before the wargs’ howlings brought him back to reality, Thorin swore he could taste blueberries on his tongue.

*** * ***

The stop at Beorn’s Hall provided a welcome respite for all the Company; even if Thorin stoically tried to downplay his wounds he needed some rest more than anybody else.

And really, he reflected, would it be such a tragedy to lie down in the shade of a tree and close his eyes for a moment? Not sleeping, mind you, just resting.

Thorin woke up to the pleasant, sweet, scent of tobacco. His eyes, still slightly unfocused, watched Bilbo Baggins smoke at his side; he looked carefree, with his head tipped back against the bark and the sleeves of his white shirt rolled up. If he squinted, he could spot golden freckled on his forearms. The dwarf tried to be stealthy but Bilbo suddently roused too.

«Oh, I hope I didn’t bothered you. I wanted to offer a pipe but you looked so-» he fretted over the perfectly lit pipe, looking suddently very interested in anything but the dwarf.

Thorin slowly raised his hand and placed it over Bilbo’s own, smaller but nimble.

_You killed for me. It was the last thing I saw._

«Pray, don’t mention it. I should have woken up sooner.» He wetted his lips, suddently dry. «I should thank you for what you did when Azog... You were brave.»

The dwarf internally winced at his wording; in his mind he was far more eloquent and suave that this.

«Not my favourite part of this adventure, but it was necessary.» Bilbo looked at him through his lashes, leaning towards him. «I wouldn’t call myself brave, though. I was terrified most of the time.»

Thorin squeezed his hand; he was still holding it, but Bilbo didn’t seem to mind it.

«That is what makes you brave, I believe.»

Bilbo smiled, which Thorin counted as a victory, but he also let his hand go, which was quite a disagreeable outcome. Thorin was very much ready to feel disappointed, until he saw the basket, hidden under a folded table cloth.

«I though you would be hungry, and Beorn has plenty of ale, bread and honey. I also added something else.»

The bowl of blackberries, ripe and glossy, was indeed the first thing Thorin noticed.

«I am afraid that you will have to wait for blueberries,» said Bilbo with a glint in his eye.

«They are perfectly adequate, Master Burglar.»

Bilbo laughed, his pipe gone cold and lying forgotten at his feet.

«Why, I was hoping for something more than “adequate”, but I will glady accept any praise from you!» But Bilbo suddently stopped, starting to brush inexistend grass from his trousers and looking quite ready to bolt away.

_That won’t do._

Thorin hastily grabbed the bowl, knocking down a few jars in the process, and all but shoved it into the hobbit’s chest.

«We could share.»

Bilbo’s hand slowly closed over his.

«Gladly.»

*** * ***

Thorin is not a fool; he is perfecly aware that cursing one’s ancestors is not a brilliant display of diplomacy.

But really, he has his reasons after all: Bilbo is missing, they are stuck in Thranduil’s prison, he is in a remote dark cell, the spiders’ bites still hurt and Bilbo is missing.

When he manages to sleep, Thorin’s mind is plagued by anxieties. He dreams of Erebor burning, of his grandfather madness and Frerin demise at the gates of Khazad-dûm, of an hundred nameless shadows whispering his failures.

_See?_, they say, _you are a king without a crown, which makes you no one at all. Not even your kin followed you, and the fools that did are marching to their graves._

He woke up shaking, feeling even less rested than before falling asleep.

Thorin also dreamt of Bilbo, alone and lost in Mirkwood, or worse; but he just knew that Bilbo is alive, somewhere, and hopefully safe.

But as the days, or is it weeks already?, passed, his hope started to dwindle; he is often so close to tell Thranduil everything, but his pride, his own blood, revolted at the mere thought.

«May I interrupt your sulking session?»

At first Thorin doesn’t believe it; he blinks rapidly, marvelling yet again at Bilbo’s face, even if tired and pale.

It came very natural to thrown himself at the iron bars, arms wrapping awkwardly around the hobbit smaller form, nose shamessly buried in his curls – and pride be damned.

Thorin may have slept only two hours, and yet he is suddently very much aware of Bilbo’s hand sofly combing through his hair; they must be filthy by now, but the hobbit doesn’t seems to mind.

«You came back. You always do,» Thorin managed to say, voice rough after days and days of silence.

They parted, and yet Bilbo’s kept him close, his hands still on the dwarf’s shoulders; it was to be discreet of course, but it was still an ideal arrangement in Thorin’s opinion.

«I almost told Thranduil everything,» he confessed, lowering his eyes.

«There is no shame in that!» Bilbo immediatly responded «I am sorry it took me so long to find you, but I had to be very careful and your cell is quite distant from the others.» He stopped to quickly check the corridor, but there was no guard on the horizon.

«I have to wear my ring all the time -the one I told the Company about at Beorn, do you remember?- and it is awful.»

Thorino nodded; he could recall how impressed their companions had been of Bilbo’s game of riddles in the dark, althought he privately thought it rather terrifing.

«It is draining you. You should rest too, here,» he said tugging at Bilbo’s coat, «I will wake you if somebody comes checking.»

Bilbo pondered for a moment, biting his bottom lip – that Thorin was absolutely not staring at, how dare you – and then nodded. He curled in the corner, shoulders pressed against the iron bars between them.

«Oh, how silly of me. I almost forgot.» The hobbit reached for his pockets and passed Thorin a neatly folded handkerchief. Inside there was a small rasberry cake, still slightly warm. «I am afraid it is a poor substitute for freshly picked berries, but it is quite good.»

Thorin wanted to thank him properly, but soon enough Bilbo fell asleep, his brow smooth and relaxed at last. One of his hand was still losely curled around Thorin’s.

With Bilbo’s hand in his and the taste of raspberries in his mouth, he dared to hope.

*** * ***

«You always came back! Even if-» Thorin swayed, almost dragging Bilbo to the floor with him.

After Thorin declarations on the market’s square and the ensuing warmer welcome by the Master of Laketown, the Company sensibly decided that ale was the best way to deal with the looming threat of a dragon. Even Kili, who still looked rather grey, joined them.

After a few pints, Thorin turned giddy and very appreciative, starting to loudly declare the true and steadfast nature of dwarves, perfectly exemplified by his equally inebriated Company. Bilbo found rather amazing how Thorin managed to be both eloquent and incredibly drunk. Personally, he was the sober member of the group, and thus found himself cast in the role of the caretaker, which now consisteed in carefully guiding Thorin up the stairs.

Thorin throw an arm over the hobbit’s shoulders, emptying half his pint at his feet.

«Even when you heard the elf in Rivendell! And then, and then-» He straightened a litte bit, letting the pint go in favour of grabbing the staircase. «You said you missed your home and this is why you understood. You always understand. You also looked very pretty.»

«Yes, I remember, Thorin. I was there after all,» Bilbo said while trying to mantain balance, which was quite difficult with a rather heavy dwarven king clinging to him. He also tried very hard to not mull on the “very pretty” part; hope could wait another day or two.

By some stroke of luck they managed to reach their shared room without falling down the stairs. It took a few tries but eventually Bilbo tricked Thorin into drinking a glass of water - «Oh, it is a special ale, you must try it!»

The dwarf was in a chatty mood, to the point that Bilbo felt almost guilty of seeing him in such a vulnerable state, althought he shared mostly snippets of his childhood and happy memories of Erebor. It didn’t help that Thorin also looked very lovely in the moonlight, reflected Bilbo while laying in his bed, watching the dwarf grow progressivly sleepier.

He was about to fall asleep too when he heard a loud gasp; in the darkness, Thorin reached for his hand.

«I wanted to tell you! It is very important that you know...»

Bilbo wainted for a seemingly infinite moment, but he only heard the sound of the dwarf’s snoring. He did not let his hand go, though.

The mornig after, Thorin barely looked him in the eyes while they washed and dressed. It was only after Bilbo returned for a quick trip to the market that Thorin approached him.

«I am deeply sorry if I offended or embarassed you in any way,» he said solemnly, his hands tightly clasped behind his back.

«You did nothing wrong! Oh course you were...talkative, but not offensive. It was rather endearing, if you must know.»

Thorin’s tension seemed to leave him all at once, and even attempted a shy little smile that Bilbo immediatly returned.

«You wanted to say something, do you recall it?» Bilbo ventured to ask, casually, as if he didn’t spent hours mulling over it.

The dwarf lowered his head, his dark hair covering his face. «Yes, I could never forget. But now I feel that it would be more appropriate to wait. I need to reclaim the mountain first.»

Bilbo nodded, «I understand!» He absolutely did not.

Still, the hobbit had ideas of his own.

It came to him while exploring the market that his birthday passed without the usual giving of gifts; a shame to any respectable hobbit, really. Bilbo had contributed to Bard’s payment for the his smuggling trick, and now he chided himself for having little to spare for his companions. However, a little something caught his eyes.

«I couldn’t find berries with this cold, but here.»

The garland of strawberries’ leaves and blooms, dried and tightly woven together with silver wire, looked even smaller in Thorin’s hand; suddently Bilbo felt very foolish, but still soldiered on.

«In the Shire strawberries’ flowers means- Well, they have a nice meaning. It is a good omen... and a promise.»

Thorin gently took his hand; it always amazed Bilbo how much Thorin looked younger when he smiled.

«A promise, then.»

*** * ***

The King under the Mountain has an hundred and more promises stuck in his throat.

_I will give you a ring for every finger, earrings and necklaces of the purest silver, beads of emeralds to braid your hair with. Would you let me? Would it be enough?_

He is showing Bilbo the workshops of the jewellers guilds; on the tables, dusty and forgotten, still laid piles of raw gems and stones. An half-finished silver bracelet with small rubies caught his eye; the stones, dulled by the years, faintly reminds him of wild berries. He took it, wiping the dust away with his thumb.

«If I were to craft something for you, would you wear it?» he asked, turning towards Bilbo.

«Oh course, althought I am afraid I would look ridiculous,» said Bilbo with a small smile that didn’t quite reached his eyes.

Thorin has noticed how preoccupied the hobbit looked since they entered the Mountain, and yet he could not figure why.

«And really, anything would be fine. Right now I’d love for a handful of blackberries instead of dried meat,» Bilbo continued, attempting an almost-joke, while Thorin wished he could say what he though.

_Forget berry picking. Stay with me, and I will crown you._

«What a poor gift for a king.» He said insted, casting the bracelet aside.

Bilbo frowned, as if he couldn’t think of a better gift than flowers and berries, «I do not know Thorin the King that well, but Thorin Oakenshield always had something to offer to me, even without a crown.»

Thorin is suddently acutely aware of how alone they are, and how lovely Bilbo looked clad in blue – it is the wrong shade, but he will set that right in time. In the golden light of the lamp, his clear eyes shone like amber. He remembered when Bilbo showed him his acorn, speaking of home and warming him more than the gold ever did.

When he answers, his voice is rougher than he expected.

«How? Thorin Oakenshield had nothing.»

«Loyalty, honour, a willing heart,» Bilbo replied immediatly, «That was enough for me. For all of us.»

Thorin does not even register that his hand is now resting on Bilbo’s shoulder until the hobbit step closer, until he slowly drag it to Bilbo’s cheek, soft and warm under his touch. In his mind he drags a finger to his lips, tracing them until they part, yielding.

«I am afraid it is not enough,» he whispered instead, choking back a sob and stepping back.

Later, he will see Bilbo clad in mithril, shining brighter than the Arkenstone.

Later, when Thorin is drowning in gold, a swirling of voices in his head, he remembered.

_You are changed._

_That was enough for me._

He remembers, and casts his grandfather’s crown aside.

*** * ***

Soon enough Thorin discovered that recovering after almost bleeding to death was a most tiresome affair.

He spent most of his time in bed, reading Balin’s reports and sometimes receiving visitors. Oin often changed his bandages, checking on the wounds’ scarring process and making him do light exercises. He explained Thorin that the angry red cut over his brow will not impair his view and that the deep wound over his breastbone will heal, but that Azog’s blade damaged his foot’s nerves; he will walk with a slight limp for the rest of his life.

The thing Thorin dreaded more, however, was having to deal with Bilbo’s leaving. Because in his mind there was no way that the hobbit would accept to stay with hi- to stay in Erebor after what happened. Dwalin and Balin often reminded him that Bilbo remained by his side even when he was bloody and delirious, but that was just out of misplaced loyalty and pity, wasn’t it?

Except that Bilbo stayed, and kept visiting him even when he wasn’t on his deathbed anymore.

«I forgive you, I always did. You were ill, and really, I made a mess too with that stupid stone,» said Bilbo at some point, while they were pretending to revise reports together, «all the things I said on Ravenhill, when you were- I meant them.»

He put the papers aside, his attention completely on Thorin.

«Now tell me, why everybody keep pointing at my mithril shirt while winking?»

In his mind Thorin has prepared a grand speech, telling in a passionate yet composed manner all the things that he longed to say for months, and how he wished Bilbo would accept his courtship and stay in Erebor until Fili could take the throne.

In truth, it was like a river breaking his dams and finally, **finally**, flowing freely.

At some point he may also have made a self-deprecating joke about his looks, never particulary famed among dwarves, which lead Bilbo to practically demonstrating all the things that he loved about him. The memory still made him blush.

Really, recovering wasn’t so bad when one has a sleeping hobbit by his side, wearing only an oversized tunic. It also gave Thorin plenty of time to plan ahead.

_I will give him a garden, a proper one with a __glasshouse__ too_.

Bilbo made a small sound in his sleep, nuzzling his head against Thorin’s shoulder.

_And a crown._ He thought. _A crown of oak leaves and strawberry blossoms._

And so he did.

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. Strawberries blossoms mean loyalty, esteem and love.  
2\. I may have mixed movie!canon, book!canon and headcanons all together :P
> 
> Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed it!


End file.
